Love Is A Trophy In Itself
by MasterRedcoat
Summary: Celtic Predator is a long way from home, the hunt is all that matters to him. Nothing he loves more than claiming skulls and mutilating his prey. But when his hunt ends with encountering beautiful human Lorna, Celtic begins to feel that he loves something just as off-world as hunting. Rated M for Violence, Language, Sexual Scenes and Mature Content i.e. rape, drugs etc...
1. Making The Kill

**Celtic Predator is enjoying this hunt, ending with his usual outcome, claiming the skull of his prey and flaying his corpse for the city to see, but when he meets beautiful English woman, Lorna. Celtic finds something he loves just as much as hunting... Sweet Predator\Human love, rated M for Violence, bad language and sexual scenes.**

* * *

His mind wandered, it's been happening for a while now. During the hunt he'd usually think about himself in amusement and marvel. Celtic was the biggest, strongest and eldest of his 3 brothers, famously named for his rash, reckless behaviour and violent fearless and dominating temper. He truly was the quintessential Yautja Predator. He always thought of his equipment as an extension of his own body. His bio-mask allowed him to see the blood flow inside his prey rise in heat as the fear manifested in them. His blades, were his claws that would cleave cowards, prey, enemies and scum alike.

'_These aren't mere tools… They're extensions…' _Celtic pondered this famous phrase in his head as his wrist blades hacked through the flesh and sinew of his foe.

* * *

2 MINUTES EARLIER…

Kuuntai was just about done mauling the teenage victim, his distorted laughter laced in a deep African accent. He was wearing baggy khaki shorts and a Native American style Shawnee. The house wasn't his, but the window was torn from the frame and the resident was his sorry victim. He just withdrew the bone shank from her naked chest as he heard a deep rapid click, coming from the rafters. He wasn't alone. His hands were coated in blood, his shank dripping with the vitae of the dead teenage girl. He looked anxiously at the rooftops, scanning the shadowy rafters, before swivelling the shank onto his belt. His face contorted to a vicious smile, as he lined fresh Cocaine on his hand and snorted sharply. Kuuntai cackled light-heartedly, when the sinister clicking disrupted his drugged thoughts again. He drew his shank and pointed it at the rafters. His voice was slurred with fatigue, sex and drugs but was still clearly threatening.

"You don't wanna fuck with me **Kefuur!** I'll fuck you up like this whore!" He gestured to the dead girl and maniacally laughed, only for the clicking, now louder and combined with an indescribable rasp unnerved him. His eyes carefully examined the point of the sound's origin, only for his drunken eyes to widen with horror and disbelief. The visible light was cut slightly, revealing an outline of a tall masculine figure. But it was coloured like the light. Kuuntai viciously gripped his shank and aimed it at the figure.

"Demon! I fucking take the skulls of your kind. FUCKING COME GET ME!" He crazily screamed at the ceiling. 3 red dots flashed and slowly traced up his leg. Kuuntai's eyes followed where the laser went. It traced to his arms and the sudden realisation hit him like a truck. "Oh…SHIT!" As a shrill hiss came from the rafters, pain shot through his arm and Kuuntai screamed in agony as a barbed spear, as long as his forearm, tore through his left arm and impaled him to the wall.

* * *

Kuuntai moaned in pain as his hands got wet with his own blood, trying to dislodge himself from the artificial bond between the spear and the wall. His black and now red skin inked the wall, as he heard the air whoosh from the rafters, 2 clouds of dust, outlining feet plumed from the ground from his invisible attacker's jumping impact. The sound of electricity crackled and the light bending began to vaporise away. His eyes were clouded with drugs; blood loss, pain and constantly glancing to his assailant and back, but Kuuntai still clearly saw him. He was clearly at least 7 feet tall, his armour being pauldrons, a breastplate, and greaves. All made up of a series of bladed plates. His head was mostly covered by a menacing mask, which in its on way, seemed to be growling at him. It walked towards him in long, meaningful strides. But he didn't understand, his predator could have simply walked over in a matter of seconds, broke his neck and been on his merry way, but he slowly strode towards him; it was toying with him! Kuuntai would not be made a fool of by this alien demon. The creature shook it's head briskly whilst emitting a sharp growl, the long black dreadlocks for it's hair snapped like whips with his sharp head movements, it's entire body coiling and leaning forward sharp-ish with the growl. It's body was covered in a fishnet under-suit and it's reptilian skin was a yellow pale.

* * *

Kuuntai screamed in pain as he tore the spear from his arm, the Predator watched amusingly, cocking his head as the feeble druglord put the spear in his weak arm and swung lazily downwards. The Predator caught his wrist mid-stab with no effort; the superhuman strength sent the crushing pain coursing to his ruptured shoulder. Kuuntai howled with pain as he drew his shank.

"**FUCK YOU KEFUUR!" **As he swung his bone knife from the right, in an attempt to pierce the hide of the alien's right hip. The creature brought his left gauntlet up. A sharp mechanical brief whine, and 2 long serrated blades of his own shot from his left gauntlet in the blink of an eye. The shank got locked between the gap of the cruel blades, and Kuuntai moaned with despair as he tried to free his blade to no avail. The Predator growled and jerked his wrist to the left, snapping the primitive bone to fragments and likewise with Kuuntai's right wrist. Time slowed down temporarily for the African, as he went silent, his left arm lost in his assailant's grip and his right was going to end up the same soon. The Predator brought back his left arm, blades extended, like he was going to backhand Kuuntai's head off. He sliced, and for the moment, the feeling felt good for Kuuntai as he lost feeling in his right arm, but the splash of warm crimson dragged him back to reality, and he screamed loudly as his severed arm flopped to the floor. He stared down in wonder at his searing arm stump as the cauterising blades came back the way they came deliberately, opening up Kuuntai's belly and causing him to vomit blood and sick in pain. He lost grip of the spear and the Predator took advantage of this and shoved Kuuntai into the wall, seizing his throat with it's left hand and impaling him through the left shoulder back to the wall with it's right. Kuuntai once again howled with torture as he felt the sudden sharp and strong impact of the creature ramming the other pair of blades on his right gauntlet into his stomach, causing blood to splash onto it's weathered breastplate and beige hand. Kuuntai spat blood into the leering alien mask. His words were thick with fear, deliriousness and challenge.

"Fucking pussy…. W-why do you…fight with mask on? Look me in the eyes you pussy…" The Predator cocked his head in surprise at his prey's challenge, the maniac cackled with little strength it had left. He kept his word to the code of honour and released his left hand from his throat. Not like Kuuntai was going anywhere: He was helpless, being short of his right arm and being pinned to a wall by a spear though his shoulder and a pair of blades through his stomach. His left hand gently gripped the face of the growling mask, the clicking noise loud and clear. After a long pause, it jerked his hand forward slightly, the mask clicked and pressurised gas violently hissed from the perimeter. The mask was lifted away from the alien's true visage, and like the creature was expected, the next face he got…was one of fear.

* * *

Kuuntai stared in horror at the alien's face, now properly looking him in the eye. As much as it was an alien, it was humanoid. It's skin was the beige-khaki like it's body, only the forehead had a tone of black. The eyes were merciless pales; it's only expression seemed to be one of malice and hatred. His mouth was a gaping maw, a set of vicious mandibles that clicked and twitched as he examined his prey anxiously, in the centre of the maw was the true mouth, a set of teeth that slowly ground together as the Predator examined his prey. His breathing was low-key, long deliberate and heavy. He spoke fluent English and his mandibles moved in unison.

"You may call be Celtic, elite hunter of the Yautja and representing the home-world that is Yautja Prime, You on the other hand are Kuuntai Mombassa, renowned crimelord and drug dealer, serial rapist of innocent teenage females and homicidal dredge. Referred to as the Coyote Man, or the predator of Boston…" The Predator's head moved and examined Kuuntai's own head for some reason… He continued to speak. "I usually hunt you for sport, but I have a fascination to flay alive the scoundrels of your primitive society, you have lived a life of blood, crime and greed. Humans like you aren't even worthy enough to have the skulls torn from your corpse and topped on my rack. Hell, you aren't even worthy to have the skin flensed from your bones and hung from a clocktower!" his low voice combined with a malicious growl. He paused for a long time and closed his eyes in thought, his mandibles clicking in habit. He opened his piercing eyes once again and locked gazes with Kuuntai once again, his voice more calm. "It's amazing on how easy it takes for predator to become prey…" He clenched his right fist with the knuckle touching the ragged flesh of his gut. "…You take skulls…. Seems we share a habit…" And with that Celtic thrust his fist through and his blades further into the dying druglord's torso, Kuuntai could feel agony inside as he felt the Yautja's strong hand grab something inside of him. He spat blood in litres and stared at his torso in torment. Celtic gave a surprised grunt and spoke in a mock surprise, "Ooh…..I can feel your spine Coyote Man…" Kuuntai whimpered and Celtic enjoyed his whimpering due to his reputation of being maniacally fearless… "Pathetic!" Celtic continued. "Didn't even know you had one…" Kuuntai felt the strong grip seize his spin base inside him. "But, I wouldn't be here if you didn't have one…" He heaved forcefully and Kuuntai howled, the last thing he saw was a shower of scarlet and crimson red as he felt his head tear his own throat asunder.

* * *

Kuuntai's mutilated headless form crumpled heavily to the floor, blood spattering and staining the laminate tiling on the bedroom floor and Celtic clicked in satisfaction as he held his prey's severed head, spine attached in his blood stained hands. He grunted with pleasure as he hooked the spine to his back plate. The face was contorted in agony and every inch of his flesh and bone was drenched in warm blood, the spine still dripping fresh. Celtic fixed his mask to his face, the sharp hiss of gas resealing the mask back to his visage. He stared at Kuuntai's mutilated corpse and drew his right wrist blades.

"Another example…" He murmured in his own guttural language, as he knelt beside the body, and began to skilfully slash the flesh from the carcass. Celtic gently recited a Yautja song under his breath as his hands got thick with blood as he tore the black flesh from the muscle in velvets of red.

* * *

Celtic stood on the rooftop, perched on the gargoyle monument and clearly forgetting the armless, headless and gutted skinless corpse dripping little blood into the alleyway below. His concentration was broken by a sweet English female accent.

"Oh my god! Who are you?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON MY ROOF?" Celtic rose and turned to face a young adolescent human female, her eyes and hair were a rich chocolate rain and were soaked in the rain, whereas the rain pinged fruitlessly off his bio-mask. He couldn't explain himself, his mask was growling but his alien heart was beating fast in his chest; never before had he seen such a beauty in front of him.

"Dear madam, if you allow me to explain…" He was interrupted by a sharp gasp.

"Is that a skinned corpse?!" I'm called the police! No, fuck that! I'm calling the FBI!" She began to run away to run, but Celtic leaped 10 meters over to her in a blink of an eye, she was dumbfounded by his agility and superhuman capabilities. He seized her firmly by the arms and spoke soothingly in a deep voice, for an alien he was very fluent with English.

"Listen! That corpse was one of a murderer, a rapist! He was working his way up this flat, killing everyone off! You were next! I saved your life my pretty!" He realised just what he called her, and surprisingly the female blushed at his comment. He tried to talk moderately sop he could be heard over the infernal rain and so he didn't growl or roar that could scare her off. "Please, I advise you not to call the authorities…" The human nodded, and Celtic released her gently. He began to stride towards the rooftop and crouched, preparing to lap into the waterlogged streets of the stormy Boston midnight. The human raised her hand and called.

"WAIT!" Celtic turned his head and his very mask pierced her soul. "Don't I get to know the name of my extraordinary, unintentional saviour?" Celtic chuckled and she clearly saw his body language, so she blushed slightly and smiled. Celtic shouted over the thunder,

"I'll be watching you my dear, and I just did what I do best, saving a rarity like you was a trophy bonus!" She blushed and put her hands on her hips,

"Next time…just…try to avoid putting skinned bodies on rooftops!" Celtic shook his head sharply.

"Can't promise you that my dear!" and he slowly put his right hand on where his heart was and bowed his head humbly, the human waved in return. Celtic turned and began to crouch and the girl ran to where he was, he jumped and she looked over the rim of the roof a second later only to find that he vanished entirely, like he wasn't even there. Her face went puzzled. Was she dreaming her masked alien saviour? WHO SHE DEVELOPED FEELINGS FOR? But she felt relieved when she head a shrill series of loud clicks echoing from the streets of Boston. She smiled to herself, butterflies in her belly, for the Predator had paid her a visit…

* * *

**Nice start, eh? Don't worry if you're unsatisfied, Celtic and Lorna will 'formally meet' next chapter.**

**'Kefuur' is an African insult in case you're wondering. Rate what you want.**


	2. Predator To Prey

**Sorry if I kept you guys waiting, but here is Chapter 2 of the Predator/Human Romance**

**ENJOY AND REVIEW**

**WARNING: This chapter features racist language, so if you are black, or Jewish, I seriously recommend you re-think about reading this.**

* * *

The refrigerated air consumed him yet he didn't care. The air reeked of fresh blood, stale tools and recently slaughtered meat. Celtic Predator sat perched on the rafters of the uninhabited slaughterhouse, as he usually does every 2 days to feed; when his hunting for food is no longer an option or he feels like he should treat himself to the prime cuts. His bio-mask rested to the left of his feet, his piercing eyes scanned the ice-blue interior of the cold storage. Celtic liked the cold, another reason for his name, being the fact he could and loved to withstand colder climates unlike his brothers Scar and Chopper, the icy chill of the large freezing room made him feel comfortable. Celtic clicked in hunger and seized half a body of a butchered pig, lifting it off the meat hook and bringing it to him. His wrist blades sprung from his right gauntlet with a sharp, metallic _'Schink!' _as he began to hack at the underside of the meat, cutting apiece roughly 7 inches in length and 2 inches in width. He let the rest of the meat drop to the frost-glittered floor. Celtic gave a derisive grunt as he heard a muffled thud coming from the floor. He slowly put the meat into his mouth about halfway before tearing the other half away from his mouth as he chewed the meat silently. His mandibles clicked as his strong Yautja jaws cut the flesh, tore the cartilage and ground the bone marrow. Celtic gave a reassured sigh. His moment of Zen disrupted by the outside clanging of bottles, cans and the uproar of multiple laughs. Celtic didn't need his mask to know their voice were thick with drugs. He stared at the vent, which he comes through, leading to the roof, and lobbed the remaining hunk of meat into his mouth, crunching it noisily as he pressed his bio-mask to his face. The rasp of gas exploded from the outside of his mask as he resealed it to his alien face. Celtic then grabbed the bar above him and built up momentum, swinging into a backflip and out of the vent, landing perfectly on his feet. Celtic noticed a change in weather, before muttering to himself in Yautjan,

"The province of Boston…This hunting ground always changes…" As he pressed the dial on his wristpad, the ambient light crackling to cloak him from the naked eye.

* * *

It was around 16:31 Earth time in Boston, the sun was not shining reducing the city to a bleak grey. The weather seemed to be heavy fog in Celtic's mask readings, he gracefully viewed in his surroundings as he peered over the edge. There were roughly 9 of them, and they wore the same clothing as Kuuntai Mombassa, only not as much. They talked really tight together so Celtic had to apply the zoom on his mask. The mechanical whirr was at the minimum as sight on the particular area and sound was amplified. They gathered under the apartment of Kuuntai's death, which strangely yet reassuringly weren't aware of it, and coincidentally, underneath the perch where his skinned corpse still hung. Celtic grinned under his mask, knowing this could be an effective card in his deck. He listened carefully and concentrated on their conversation, their African accents rattled his reptilian skin in annoyance, taking note in what they say WILL be their last words.

"…Kuuntai suffered around here somewhere, but we reckon the fucker who slayed him's inside the flat, where he usually hides out…" Celtic shook his head in amusement.

"Wrong…" He whispered under his mask.

"…He's a mere man, we'll get the drop on him and skin the Kefuur alive!" Celtic couldn't hold off the sniggering.

"Wrong again."

"This man, we'll torture him, cut off his cock and show him that NO-ONE fucks with the Mombassa boyz!" Celtic required an inyautjan amount of self-restraint to keep himself from bursting out laughing.

"So fucking wrong!" He said a little louder whilst chuckling mockingly. "Time to act." And leapt gracefully to the alley, mere metres from the new clan leader.

"We will pull this off, he'll defiantly not know what's coming to him…"

"REALLY?" Came a deep English voice from the shadows, causing the Mombassas to wheel around and face their eavesdropper, only to see no one. "How do you expect that plan to work when, A: You don't know where he is, B: He knows you are coming, And C…" Electricity began to crackle and light began to distort, causing the clan members to draw swords and bats in horror and wonder. Celtic stayed perfectly still, continuing his sentence and enjoying the inflicted intimidation, "…He isn't a man."

* * *

The new Mombassa leader slowly and nervously stepped forward and got dangerously close to Celtic, who could clearly see the fear in his eyes, when he was at arms reach,

"Boo!" And the Clan leader flung from his feet to the ground, Celtic's demonic and mocking laughter echoed throughout the alleyway, the clan bunched up together weapons still pointed out at the Predator. "Pathetic!" Celtic roared, "The famous Mombassa gang, fabled of being heartless, and fearless bastards! Yet one quick jump-scare and you flee like little schoolgirls!" He said whilst cocking his head and aiming his palm outstretched, disappointed in his foes. The leader stepped forward lightly, shaking his knife in pathetic threat.

"You kill Kuuntai?" Celtic gave a mocking bow.

"Celtic Predator, at your service, hailing from the world Yautja Prime and brutal murderer and hunter of your pathetic leader, Kuuntai Mombassa!" Celtic looked up sharply from his bow, to see the leader scoff and again flicker his knife at him in disagreement.

"Don't believe you!" Celtic was surprised, but his growling alien mask showed no emotion.

"Please, grovelling meat. Would I ever lie?" His voice was slightly laced with annoyance, and the clan leader enjoyed it.

"Yeah, you look like a right liar! Some proof please, ya pussy!" He said with a mocking cackle, causing the rest of the Mombassas to laugh along with him. Celtic clicked with more aggravation and tried another scare tactic.

"Alright, proof? Here it is! I impaled your leader to the wall with a spear. I then sliced his right arm from his shoulder my blades, before impaling the bastard BACK to the wall! I then tore open his stomach and tore his own head through his belly. Then I skinned his corpse and hung it from the very place he died in! There…Is your proof!" His voice in a threatening growl and the clan leader's eyes were wide with shock, the clan mates at the back chattering amongst them in fear. The clan leader shook his head again and pointed his sword back at Celtic; he was really starting to piss him off…

"Why lie, demon? Kuuntai was a murderer, and I don't think a pussy 'ole like you was gonna stop him, yea? Know what I'm sayin'?" Celtic looked down in rage, and growled in anger due to this creature's low-level intelligence, and the fact he wouldn't grant him the benefit of the doubt. Celtic's hands went behind him as he felt a thick cord of connected bone. Celtic's eyes widened in what he just felt and a cruel smile cracked across his maw.

* * *

"You're right." The clan leader was surprised by the Predator's 'sincere' response. He lowered his blade as Celtic began to apologetically step forward, hands lowered in a reasoning manner. The clan leader was confused yet somewhat satisfied by the creature's apology.

"All I did was try to convince Kuuntai to quit the live of drugs, rape, and murder. The scum life I have scrutinised for a while… He took the advice when I told him…" Celtic reached to his back, and the clan leader's skin crawled at a gory squelching noise. "…To QUIT WHILE HE'S A HEAD!" HE brutally brought his hand out, holding the bloody spine and skull of Kuuntai Mombassa, the new clan leader and the other clan mates screaming in fright and disgust as the spinal column dripped blood as Celtic squeezed the bone in anger. The clan leader vomited a fourth and final time before heavily gasping for air and wiping his mouth clean, he pointed his sword once again at Celtic.

"That…that could be anyone's skull Kefuur!" Celtic growled with anger at his persistent defiance. But once again another cruel smile cracked across his mouth.

"Fine…I'll give you 5 seconds to think back on what I said recently. But Kuuntai, is a part of this building!" The clan leader looked around anxiously, deep in thought. But his sudden realisation was cut short before he could solve the Predator's riddle. "Time's up!" Celtic growled, and pressed 3 keys on his open wristpad slowly and deliberately. A distant mechanical snap came from above and Celtic slowly looked up, somewhat causing the clan leader to mimic his movements. Celtic looked down, locking gazes with the clan leader.

"Here he comes." He said in false surprise, as the clan leader had barely enough time to scream as the skinned carcass crashed heavily upon his head. Celtic and the remaining clan mates heard the sharp snap of bone, as the mutilated body of Kuuntai smashed clumsily on the clan leader, breaking his neck and staining the floor in a simple spatter of red. The clan looked back at the Predator in horror and fear, their own bodies refusing to move. Celtic's gaze slowly left the 2 corpses and focused upon the remaining clan, a triangular laser sighted up the men, as Celtic said in a menacingly calm tone,

"So…Which one of you fucked-up human drugheads is next?" A long pause, the sharp red laser causing the clan mates to wince as it passed their eyes. "No volunteers? Looks like I'll have to choose!" And Celtic snapped up his left wrist and from the opening in the wrist pad came a brief flash, and a black net projectile flung a clan mate off his feet and pinned him to the wall behind them. They traded looks at their trapped brother and their killer as the clan mate's petrified scream filled the streets of Boston, the other clan mates joined the screaming as the black net began to dice his flesh. The net constricting and contracting as the black netting began to line with blood, he gripped the net out of instinct with his fingers, as the unknown cord cut slashed his fingers off like they weren't even there fresh grids were cut into the scum's face. After another 10 seconds of the vicious net seemingly crushing its victim, slaughtering him inhumanely, the streets went silent. Celtic's laugh rattled the remaining clan mates ribs as he pressed a single dial on his wristpad next to the netgun. A sharp rasp and the net dropped from the wall, forming a bag full of dismembered parts, crushed limbs, sliced flesh and litres of blood. The clan mates felt cold and clammy as the Predator's cruel laughter got closer, as he prepared to mutilate them all…

* * *

Lorna hated the fog of Boston; it usually blocked up to 50 meters of her sight. But then again, the heavy fog was a godsend compared to England's shitty weather. She pulled a lock of her hair back behind her ear, and realised the best way was through the woods near the infamous Bunker Hill. She couldn't think of anything to pass the time, a 17-year-old and she still hated walking home! Her mind thought of something, and her lips smiled as she reflected on the encounter with the legendary alien Predator 2 nights ago. She didn't know what he was properly capable of yet his brief expression of his Charisma had already stolen her heart, she was certain that she wanted to strip off that armour of his and-. She stopped herself and giggled about what she thinking about doing with an alien! The fog was getting worse and she was deep in the woods, she still thought about the Predator and wanted his name, just his name. Although she was blissfully unaware he was watching her from the treetops.

* * *

Celtic was observing the landmark colloquially called Bunker Hill. He loved the history behind it, the infamous battle on June 17th 1775; he was there, observing the British wipe out the Continental outpost atop the hill. He was only a Youngblood at the time and had no experience of the hunt and what it meant. His thoughts were crushed as he heard the breaking of twigs beneath him, he careful observed to find the beautiful human female he encountered a couple of nights ago. He sighed heavily behind his mask, and quietly clicked affectionately. He always thought that love was an affair he'd sort when he was a Retiree, and with a fellow Yautja! Yet this human female is what he falls for! He knows he's insane to do this, but love is unexpected, just like the hunt. His thoughts about his love for the human were interrupted when he spotted a couple of shady human men, regular build stalking her indiscreetly. He knew they were stalking his fancy by gesturing for another group of men to come join him. Celtic growled quietly in anger, protection and rage.

"You bastards will not touch her!" He silently grumbled in Yautjan. Celtic then proceeded to jump effortlessly to the nearest treetop, his boots landing quietly on each branch, as he stalked the stalkers, and the sexual predators, will become his Prey…

* * *

Lorna knew they were following her, they weren't being particularly discreet about it. Lorna picked up the pace, her brown eyes failing to hide the fear, and was stopped by a lean man who wheeled around the tree in front of her. He had his arms folded across his chest and had a sinister smile on his face. Lorna nodded her head and gave a quick smile before making her way around him; another man stopped her within 10 seconds. He deliberately stood in her way, and spoke with a cockney accent.

"'Ello Beaut'iful." He smiled at her and gave a wolf whistle. Lorna turned around to see an entire group of men appear from the fog, each one with cheeky smiles, grabbing their crotches or making V shapes with their fingers, holding them to their lips and darting their tongues out. Lorna sighed with disgust and tried to barge past the man in front of her. He held out a strong arm and she grunted as she tried to push past. This time he gripped her viciously by the chin and restrained her whilst grossly tracing his tongue along her cheek. She bit him in return and he howled in pain, he responded with a powerful backhand which sent he crying and stumbling backwards. Causing the rest of the men to pile in and try to restrain Lorna and force her on the ground. They grabbed her bag, tore her shirt and constantly kissed her body as she tried to fight them off, tears of pain and fear now streaming done her face as her body sang with punches and kicks and slaps and bites. The one man she bit got carried away and swung a fist down into Lorna's face, causing blood to pour from her nose as her moaned in pain, he delivered another punch, and another, and another. Before brutally sending his foot into her ribs, flinging her to the ground as 3 other thugs tore her shirt off and began to pull off her underwear. Her left eye was cut and gummed shut with blood, her crying and the jeers of the thug/rapists echoing through the forests. She could barely see but Lorna new that after they rape her, they'd most definitely kill her. She heard the sharp noise of a zipper of a thug's trousers being undone. But the cockney ringleader yelled out,

"Wait! Before you fuck her! Lemme kick this slag, teach her a fuckin' lesson, to never bite me again you fuckin' bitch!" He drew his foot back and prepared to charge forward. Lorna closed her eyes and prepared for impact, if only her Predator came to save her… But as if by magic, the thug's foot slammed heavily back to the ground, the entire group stopped everything they were about to do and turned to see their leader, as his entire body went rigid. A muffled groan came from his mouth, and a mate jested at him with a Yorkshire accent.

"What's wrong with you Mick? Just spunked yourself?" The entire group laughed, but was cut short by an aggressively loud clicking sound, coming from the leader's direction. Lorna recognised the sound and with her good eye, she looked up at the leader.

"Mick?" Came a Geordie accent, as the leader arced backwards so his torso was thrown forward slightly, startling the rapists and Lorna. A dark English voice came from the shoulder of the leader.

"You will not have a second chance at touching her again. You perverted FUCK!" And with that, 2 shards to light shredded through the leader's chest, the entire group yelling in fright at the shower of red exploding from the leader's chest. The blades of light tore from the chest and the leader collapsed effortlessly to the ground, the air crackled and the fog with the light began to bend, shift and distort.

* * *

Celtic stood in a rage, breathing heavily at the terrified humans as he de-cloaked right before their eyes, his growling chilled them to the bone. Out of fear, the Yorkshireman stood out to confront Celtic.

"You…You killed Kuuntai? Right?" Celtic roared wildly at him.

"The same way you'll die you sick human trash!" The Yorkshireman backed off drawing a weapon.

"Good…good, good, good, good mate! Fuckin' twisted Nigger deserved it! Him and his cult of weirdo's? And Azariah the Preacher, you kill him too?" He knew his attempts at relating were in vain, as 2 sets of razor sharp serrated wrist blades sprang from his gauntlets.

"Well…He was a crazy Jew! Always thought everyone who was associated with Germans were Nazis!" Celtic stalked forward, forsaking the code to hunt his prey. His anger could only be sated by direct conflict.

"You will pay for your crimes you sick, twisted bastard!" And Celtic's voice was so deep; it was barely understandable with his combined roars, snarls and growls. The rapists shoved Lorna behind them with their feet and all drew knives, bats and hammers. The Yorkshireman stood in front; he was the first to die.

"Well then mate. Come and have a go if you think you-" He was permanently cut short as the Predator leapt onto him claws first, impaling him through the lungs and slamming him into the ground. Roars filled Celtic's ears as the thugs charged him from all angles; at least 20 of them. Celtic swung his blades in a circular motion, slashing torsos from legs and spilling warm crimson on his yellow skin. A crazed thug charged from behind, and stabbed when Celtic was not expecting, the steel blade digging deep into the back of his shoulder and causing his own fluorescent green blood to spurt from the wound. Celtic groaned with pain and swiftly stabbed his right blade over his left shoulder, impaling the thug through the skull and killing him instantly. Celtic then snared his arm upwards, tearing the head from his shoulders in a wet snap. Celtic was disgusted by his head and shook it from his blade into the forest. Celtic then had to dodge multiple knife swings and upon stepping back with his right foot, he stepped forward, putting all the momentum, weight and power into his right blade, tearing through the abdomen of his opponent. He spat blood on Celtic's armour as he viscously tore the blade up to his throat, spilling his entrails onto the bleak grass; Celtic palmed the dying thug off his blade, shattering his nose in the process. Because that kill took too long, another thug with a baseball bat, spiked with a nail, swung his weapon into Celtics left knee, causing him to howl in pain as the green fluid began to pour from his wound. The thug then stabbed the nail into his back and Celtic roared with pain. Before the thug could then take another fatal swing, Celtic drove his elbow into the thug's gut, winding him and knocking him off balance. Celtic rose to his feet and spun round, swinging his fist into his chest, shattering his ribs inwards and piercing his organs. Celtic then stepped forward with his left foot, seizing the thug's throat and crushing his windpipe, out of pure spite and rage, Celtic threw his head into the thug's, caving his head in and smearing his solid metal mask with blood and bone matter. Celtic was angry, but was draining out of fatigue, as another convict swung a sledgehammer into the Celtic's face horizontally, causing him to yelp in pain and he could feel his mask coming loose. The thug then butted the hammer head into the Predator's stomach winding him, he swung upwards with the hammer, further knocking Celtic off balance before swinging horizontal one more time, spinning Celtic round and flinging his mask from his face. He felt the human grip his shoulder firmly and spin him round, only to see the horror.

* * *

Celtic's injured and bleeding face was snarling at him, as he reversed the grip by getting a stronger one on the human. Celtic screamed the generic Yautja roar, spraying the human's face with blood and saliva. The thug screamed in fright as Celtic's mouth consumed his face, dark red flowing from the corners of his mouth in rivers a the mandible teeth dug deep into his flesh. Celtic tugged away and the man's skin was stripped from his face, leaving the glistening red muscle flesh beneath. Celtic shoved the human to the ground, and spat a dollop of blood, also the mangled face flesh. He saw only a few thugs remained and noticed his wristblades were terribly battered. He withdrew them and brought out a long serrated short-sword from his right boot, and held it like dagger. He swung quickly and the knife tore sinew apart and cleaved heads from shoulders. Celtic killed the seemingly last thug when he jammed his knife halfway through his throat. He freed it by swinging it outwards, causing a crude decapitation and swinging the headless corpse to the floor. Celtic sheathed his knife as he saw Lorna trying to stand. He stumbled over to her, and she gasped at the sight of him, first it was fear, but now it was reassurance.

"So…You were watching me, were you?" Lorna asked in her soft voice. Celtic chuckled slightly, and raised her to her feet.

"You are worth watching my pretty." He smiled but then his voice dropped to anger. "Did they?"

"No, no, no. They didn't rape me…" Lorna was relieved to see the Predator again, and she immediately wrapped her arms around his warm body. Overwhelmed by the gesture, Celtic waited momentarily before he wrapped his arms around her in return. He clicked multiple times affectionately.

"Lorna, by the way. Lorna Smith. Thank you." Celtic accepted her gratitude and introduction and decided to respond the moment her saw the last thug.

"Celtic. Celtic Predator. And it's not over yet…" He brushed her hair with his bloody clawed hand and she looked him puzzled.

"Over? Why not?" Celtic immediately moved her.

"LOOK OUT!" And he moved her behind him, as a gunshot echoed, green blood spurted from Celtic's abdomen. He groaned in pain and dropped to his knees, Lorna gasped with horror and followed him down to the ground.

"Oh god! Celtic! CELTIC!" She had tears streaming from her eyes once again, as the thug, another Yorkshireman spun the gun round and kicked the Predator in the face, sending him onto his back as he groaned in pain.

"NOOO!" Lorna screamed as she charged the thug, he simply responded by pistol whipping her and knocking her back. He examined Celtic and pointed the gun at his head. He suddenly broke his aim.

"Y'know? I don't think I should kill you mate. After all, that crazed black cunt Kuuntai! He was giving me and the boys some hassle, but you killed him, bravo!" He clapped his hands together mockingly. "And not to mention Azariah. Fabled for when he butchered an entire school bus of 30 plus kids cos they were goin' to Germany, you did the whole world a favour, fuckin' Jews. So y'know what? I'm gonna save this bullet for her instead!" He pointed the gun at Lorna and Celtic's rage kicked in once again. He rose up to his knees and grasped the hand, which held the gun. He began to try and divert it to the thug's chin for an instant kill, but wounds, blood loss and fatigue were taking effect; the Predator was being outmatched by a human! Realising only one way out, Celtic brought the gun to his own chest, as the thug looked at him in confusion, Celtic shut his eyes, rapidly breathing and bracing for the pain to come. He opened his eyes and roared his loudest, snapped the thug's finger, which pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled through the forest and Lorna startled at the shot. Celtic found it hard to breathe as the bullet tore his chest open, green blood pouring like a miniature waterfall. He groaned with agony and anger, looking into the thug's eyes as his hand clasped around his chin, the thug screamed as Celtic sharply twisted his head to the left, then to the right and began to pull upwards. Blood fountained from his neck as the spine began to shred the weak flesh as the head was torn from his shoulders, the formless corpse crumpled to the floor and staining the burned kindle with red. Celtic roared triumphantly at his newest trophy and staggered to stand. He turned to face Lorna who was worried of his condition; she rose to her feet and sprinted over to him. For a 7ft tall super strong and agile alien hunter, he was quite light. She cradled him and steadied him in case he fell.

"Now…I know what you're capable of!" Lorna giggled at Celtic, who turned his head slowly, his breaths were suppressed into whines and blood drooled from his mouth. Her smile dropped. "Celtic?" She asked.

"Lorna…Are you…are you alright?" He struggled to speak, and Lorna was even more worried.

"Yes Celtic, I'm fine." Celtic slightly smiled at her.

"Good…At…at least… at least one of us will make it out of here…" Lorna was surprised he said that.

"What?" And Celtic groaned with pain and collapsed in her arms, tears in her eyes, as her rescuer who she has developed feelings for was dying, "No!" She yelled as she cradled him, her hand went to his chest, an instantly brought it back to see it glimmering with luminescent green blood. Celtic was passing out into death's clutches, Lorna's sweet voice fading out,

"Celtic…don't you dare die on me…We're not far from my house…" Her voice was gone and Celtic felt nothing. No pain, no rage no fear, just calmness, like he was back in that cold slaughterhouse...

* * *

Celtic's alien eyes began to open in the dim light of the earthly fireplace, realising where he was, he sharply inhaled, bringing himself up to look into the fireplace. A warm hand landed on his shoulder and he turned, slightly growling only to see Lorna, holding out a glass of water to him, she startled at his growl. But he looked away apologetically.

"Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me Celtic!" As she offered the glass to him. Usually Celtic didn't except things like a drink, but his throat was parched, he took the glass gratefully, his claws slightly tickling her skin upon withdrawal.

"Sorry Lorna…Just instinct." Lorna giggled as Celtic downed the entire glass in one drink, noisily gulping it.

"Do you, want another?" Celtic rejected politely with a gesture of his hand and a shake of his head. Lorna had to know as she sat right across from where Celtic sat, and lay her hand on his, his eyes widening in shock upon the intentional contact.

"Celtic, how did you come across me then?" Celtic stared at her.

"Well…I was perched along the treetops, observing Bunker Hill." Lorna cocked her head at him and smiled heavily. "What? I enjoy the history!" Lorna giggled again.

"You know about the battle then?" Celtic smiled slightly.

"Why, yes. I was there!" Lorna looked at him in shock and amazement, her reaction caused Celtic to burst out laughing, echoing inside her house. His voice went serious after looking into her soul for a few seconds. "But when I saw you my dear. My thoughts went on you." Lorna began to blush at his comment. "And when I saw those…INBRED…PERVERTED…" His voice was raising and he began to growl. Lorna immediately placed her left hand behind his head and stroked his dreadlocks. His voice lowered and he stopped growling and began to click calmly, the very noise that also soothes Lorna's soul.

"You saved my life Celtic. That is the most anyone has ever done for me!" She smiled at Celtic and she was blushing a lot.

"My dearest Lorna… You used my Medicomp to save the life of a stranger from another world; I should be the one thanking you." His left hand went to he face, his thumb and thumbnail gently caressing her cheek. She closed her eyes and placed her hand over his. Her hand left his dreads and went to his chest; he twitched on the couch and groaned with pain.

"Fuck…" He groaned, and Lorna withdrew her hand whilst giggling.

"You know how to swear!" Celtic shrugged his shoulders.

"Well when you've been on Earth for a few centuries, you'll get used to the customs." They both laughed amongst themselves, before locking eyes once again. They stared into each other for a while before Lorna broke off; Celtic would try to peek his head round to look at her beautiful face again, she would giggle and move the other way.

"Celtic, no! You're making me blush!" Before long, he balled his fist and gripped her chin gently, securing her chin whilst caressing it with her thumb. They stared at each other again, this time with…love.

"That face of yours…so beautiful…" Lorna smiled at Celtic, and then, Celtic pulled himself into her, his mandibles locking up to form near human lips. He brought their lips together, skilfully working his jaw with hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sat on his waist, the Predator clicking mid-kiss with affection and calmness. Lorna stroked his dreads as he withdrew, but she was hungry for more, gripping Celtic by his skull necklace around his bare chest and bringing him in to another kiss. Celtic groaned and clicked in the back of his throat, which made Lorna's stomach flip. There was no pain in here wounds anymore, there was just her, Celtic, the fire and the warmth of their new found love. And as Celtic pulled away to kiss her neck, she only realised how much she never wanted to let this go…

* * *

**Awww, ain't that sweet. The ruthless Celtic Predator has found love. Stay tuned for Chapter 3!**

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